


How to bake the perfect Louis Tomlinson

by justgotowisharder



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Baker Harry, Bakery, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Popular Louis, Shy Harry, harry loves Louis, loads of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 06:06:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justgotowisharder/pseuds/justgotowisharder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What’s next on the recipe, Hazza?”<br/>“Hum…” he mutters and pokes his head up, pecking Louis on the lips. “Sprinkle it with some kisses to make it sweeter.”<br/>“Oh, I like that step. Can I try?” </p><p> (A not so regular highschool!au where Gemma, Zayn and Louis are the cool kids and Harry doesn’t understand why are they asking for his help, but he will help them anyway because all he needs is Louis)</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to bake the perfect Louis Tomlinson

**Author's Note:**

> This work is based on a propmt that Eri ([Aki-anyway in tumblr](http://aki-anyway.tumblr.com/)) sent me, and i wrote it with my persona-fluffy style :) it's dedicated to her, i really hope you like this! *i owed you this bc the drawing you did for me was lovely :')* ♥ she's an amazing artist (go on and check her art!) and such a lovely person. enjoy :) xx
> 
> This fic was translated into Russian, [read it here (xx) ](http://ficbook.net/readfic/2289597)

 

**♡ _Step 1: put mischief, prettiness, perfection, good manners and softness in a bowl and mix it all_  ♡**

 

“Please tell me why Louis Tomlinson is standing at my room door.”

“What?!”

“Shh, Niall, don’t scream!”

“Harry, I’m on the phone. Trust me, Louis can't hear me.”

“Oh— that's true,” he whispers. “I gotta go, Ni. Call you later.”

Harry Styles hangs up the phone and leans on the door, pressing his ear against the wood, trying to catch a sound. Luckily for Harry, between him and Louis there is the door; it would be awkward if it wasn't there, because Harry's heart is beating so fierily that he’s pretty sure everyone near him can hear it.

Someone is whispering at the other side of the door, but Harry can’t figure out who is. Maybe is Zayn Malik, Louis’s best friend. But if the young curly-haired boy can’t find a reason to explain why Louis is knocking at his door, he finds not reasons at all to explain why Louis and Zayn are doing it.

Harry leans on harder against the wood door just when someone knocks pretty violently, making the boy’s body wobble and step back, stumbling with his own legs and falling on the ground.

“Harry Styles, open the fucking door!”

It’s Gemma.

Harry's older sister is the complete opposite of him: cool, popular, talkative and pretty, and everybody loves her. She’s… a cool girl, basically. The girl who uploads a photo on Instagram and has thousands of likes. The girl who takes photos of Starbucks and her pool days with her friends. The type of girl Harry doesn't fit with (even when they're brother and sister). Harry doesn't even have Instagram, and and he can count with one hand the days he spent on the pool.

“Harry I know you are there,” Gemma insists and Harry is very aware that he doesn’t have a way out, except maybe to jump by the window, which is too risky, so…

Harry stands up and tries his best to brush his messy mop of curls with his hands, and then he takes a deep breath, counting from one to ten. Finally, he opens the door.

“Finally,” Gemma growls when he opens, and she walks in without expecting any invitation. “These are Zayn and Louis, Hazza,” she introduces her friends, pointing at them lazily.

Of course Harry already knows who Zayn is: cool Malik, with his brown eyes, his dark hair, his handsome features. He dresses so nice, he has skinny legs as Harry but somehow his jeans fits him in a way much elegant than Harry's… He mutters an unemotional “hey lad” when he walks in, going straight towards Gemma.

And then… Then comes Louis. If Harry had known a word to describe Louis easily, he would have used it, but when it’s about the boy no word seems to be the right one.

Harry tries to smile at Louis, ignoring the twist on his stomach and the warmth running down his body. He tries to do it but his muscles don’t react and his cheeks go flushed.

“Hi, Harry,” Louis says and Harry might be dying because those are the first words Louis speaks to him. “Can I come in?”

Of course Louis couldn’t be any more well-mannered; he's the epiphany of perfection.

“Sure,” Harry stutters and let Louis in.

“Harry, we need you,” Gemma says, who’s sitting on the window frame while playing idly with one of Harry’s beanies “and you need us”

“Ok,” Harry nods, not sure about what he is supposed to say.

You see, when the group of cool kids in high school appears in your room and tells you that they need you, it doesn’t matter if one of those kids is your sister: you won’t have a clue of what’s happening in the world.

“Look, Harry: Zayn’s girlfriend is turning eighteen and he wants to give her a big cake,” Gemma explains, glancing at Zayn, who is leaning against the wall with his arms folded against his chest. “You know Zayn’s girlfriend, right?” she wonders. “Polly Edwards.”

“Perrie,” Zayn corrects him with annoyance, rolling his eyes.

“Right, Perrie, whatever,” she mutters, waving her hands.

Louis, who’s standing right next to Harry, sniggers at the comment and Harry can’t help smiling because he knows that Louis and him have smiled for the same exact reason: Gemma pretends to forget people’s name as a way of showing her awesomeness; she’s too cool to remember other people’s name (she’s not, really, but whatever).

“Gemma told me that you’re part of the local baker contest, representing the bakery where you work,” Zayn takes the word, “and you need to create an original cake so— maybe you could bake one for my missus and use it for the competition.”

There are a lot of things Harry doesn’t understand: first of all, why is Zayn asking him to bake a cake when he’s perfectly capable of buying on in a good and famous bakery? Second, why is Gemma talking about his completely boring competition? It’s a wearisome contest, he only took part of it because his mom insisted and, since he likes baking, well…

“It’s fine if you don’t want to, Gemma suggested me to ask you because you needed a good cake design for the contest, as far as I know."

“It’s an original recipe, actually, but a cake can work” Harry mutters and glances at Gemma, who’s smiling triumphaly and winks at his brother as soon as he looks at her.

“He will do it, Zayn,” she announces and jumps off the window, approaching to her brother. She surrounds him with her arm and kisses him on the cheek, “Zayn will search some photos so you can picture what type of cake he wants,” she says cheerfully. “I love you, dumb head.”

Harry doesn’t find words to say because he can’t quite understand how he ended up in the same room with Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson. Suddenly he feels a rush of gratitude towards the bakery and that silly contest.

Zayn follows Gemma out of the room quickly, yet Louis doesn’t move.

“Harry,” he calls softly.

Harry stops breathing when he hears his name coming from Louis’s mouth and he slowly turns to him. He swears he never felt his face as hot as in that moment; he’s obviously being a complete flushed mess. How does he looks? Probably horrible. Why is he wearing those stupid joggings, and why he can't have a nice pair of shoes? Why is he bare feet? Why is he a mess when Louis is right there? Why?

“You can say no if you want, Harry,” he says, smiling at him. “Maybe you got something else on mind.”

“No, no,” Harry whispers, shaking his head, “I didn’t, so it’s good for me.”

“Then, great,” Louis nods and pats Harry on the back. “Thank you from the three of us.”

When Louis walks away, Harry finally can breathe.

 

 

**♡ _Let the mix rest for some minutes: it will taste better if you do. This isn't a quick recipe_ ♡**

 

 

 “Ok. So, are you telling me that Malik and Tomlinson asked you to bake a cake for Perrie Edwards?”

“It’s complicated,” Harry tries to explain while he walk out of the classroom with Niall, his best mate, who's getting more and more excited about the story Harry is telling him. “Remember the annual baker contest?”

“Yeah, you won it last year,” he nods.

“Well, that one. I’m taking part of it again, so Gemma thought it was a nice idea to use Perrie’s cake for it.”

“Oh— that’s weird,” Niall says thoughtfully, pursing his lips. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, but why on earth would Malik ask you for help?”

“You forget that Gemma is my sister,” Harry mutters, a little bit annoyed. he already knows he's lame, but he doesn't need a constant reminder of it.

“Oh, whatever.”

The two stop in front of their respective lockers and starts putting their books in order, when Niall suddenly turns around.

“Harry,” Niall calls, nervously patting his shoulder, "they’re coming directly to us."

Harry’s first reaction is to ignore the tighten on his chest and the rising heartbeats, but then he remembers about the cake and he completely falls on panic.

“Now? Oh, shit,” he mutters, slamming the locker door when he closes it. “Shit, shit. Ni, act normal.”

“What?” the Irish lad asks. He anxiously glances from Harry to the boys, trying to figure out what to do next.

“Hey kiddos,” Zayn says when they join them. When he's in public, he talks a bit louder and cheekily than when he's with friends, Harry observes. He will never be able to understand the cool kid's way of acting, they're all so... strange.

“Hi,” Harry says awkwardly, looking down at the floor.

Niall’s mouth falls open and his face expression turns completely astonished. The girls around them glance at Louis and Zayn, but they don’t pay attention to Harry nor Niall.

“Hey, I was looking cake designs and I finally got some ideas,” Zayn says and Niall nods even when he’s not talking to him and when he doesn’t know what Zayn’s talking about. Zayn gazes at him, raising an eyebrow, and then goes back to Harry, “Louis has the photos on his Ipad, mind to check them in the next break?”

 _Louis-has-them._ Harry’s luck couldn’t get any better, and he really doesn't understand why the world is being so weird lately and why the situation is changing without any logical explanation.

“Ok,” he nods and glances at Louis.

He catches the older boy staring at him with a fond expression on his pretty face, soft as cotton, and he suddenly feels something taking control of his entire body, like a sugar rush, like butterflies… Harry starts wondering if those cheesy things about your breathing stopping, the butterflies on your stomach and the blank of mind when you're in love are actually true.

“Perfect,” Louis adds. “I’ll be waiting for you, Haz. Enjoy your morning, guys.”

When Zayn and Niall are gone, Niall shrieks, “I never thought Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson could tell me to enjoy my morning." He sounds as excited as if he just met some popular star. “Awesome.”

Harry never thought he could get the chance to be around Louis Tomlinson, his all-time-crush. Really, Harry loves bakery.

 

 

**♡ _Step 3: hands in the mass! Mash it: feel it in your hands and throw away the awkwardness, it can ruin the good taste_ ♡**

 

 

It'd have been a regular day on the library, when Harry is sitting alone on a table, while Gemma and his cool friends pretending to be working but doing anything at all: books on the table but none of them seem interested on them; talking a bit louder to be in a library. Louis is pulling funny faces and the entire table burst into laughter, Harry included. It's impossible not to be happy when Louis is around.

Well, It'd have been a regular day on the library if Harry wasn't constantly remember he’s supposed to be working on his homework and not falling more in love with Louis, so… but it feels different this time.

All those days Harry stared at Louis it felt like he was living in another planet. He was so far a fay, so out of reach… Yet now that they have talked, it’s like he feels Louis more _real,_ Louis is an actual person. And he loves it even more.

The laughter doesn’t stop for a while, proving how cool Gemma’s circle is, until the librarian gets mad and yells at them.

Harry, curious, raises his eyes  at Gemma’s table and finds his sister actually quiet (which is a miracle, really) and Zayn snogging with Perrie (that surprises Harry because you aren’t suppose to be snogging on the library, but well) but the doesn’t spot Louis.

He licks his lips while his eyes travel by the place, trying to find Louis, to enjoy his sparkle, to check if he's happy..

“Hey, Haz.”

Harry’s reaction to Louis’s voice is to jump on his chair, almost falling from it. The older boy smiles at him and takes a seat at his side, giggling about Harry's awkwardness.

“Harry, you should stop doing it!” Louis says, resting his Ipad on the table.

“Doing what?” Harry asks, utterly embarrassed.

“Acting like you have a heart attack every time I talk to you,” Louis jokes and it’s an awkward truth, but he makes it sound less weird than what it is. “I’m not going to bite you.”

“Oh,” Harry mutters, nodding with the head, “ok.”

“No, no babe, still not working,” he says and grabs Harry by the arms, facing him. “Now tell me a stupid thing.”

“What?” Harry asks. He doesn’t even understand what he’s doing; the only thing his mind seems to be able to think while staring at Louis is _“you’re so pretty, so, so pretty”._

“C’mon, tell me a stupid thing.”

Louis is gripping Harry’s arm and that’s making his skin burn into flames in a very, very odd yet perfect way.

“I’ll start,” Louis offers. Being closer to him, Harry can appreciate how beautiful Louis’s eyelashes are and Louis’s features and his everything. God, he barely can breathe. “Bows.”

“What?” Harry repeats, falling from his cloud nine.

“Bows. Arrows. Ruffles— mmm— footy.”

Harry laughs childishly, looking right as five years old boy in love; and when he does, something strange and stunning sparks on Louis’s eyes.

“Hum— rainbows.”

“Cotton.”

“Candy. Ponies. Flowers!”

They keep saying random words until they’re laughing together, Harry already enamored with Louis’s laughter.

“I like this better,” Louis confesses, finally setting Harry free. “There was something tense between us.”

 “Thank you, Louis," he says, short of breath because of the intense laughter. "I'm sorry If I acted weird before."

“It’s Lou for you,” Louis points out, winking at him,"and don't be worry, sunshine."

“Lou,” Harry repeats and his name feels good on his lips, “thank you. Now we can work on the cake?”

“Oh, yes, the cake—” Louis nods, and it comes clear that he has forgotten about the cake.

“Didn’t you come here for the cake?” Harry wonders while Louis rests his head on his right hand.

“Yes,” he nods, but he doesn't fool Harry. Louis wasn't there for the cake (at least, _not only_ for the cake). “So— the cake.”

 

 

**♡ _Step 4: sometimes it can taste a little biter so you may need to sprinkle it with tenderness and sweetness_ ♡**

 

 

Perrie’s birthday is supposed to come in three days, and Harry has already got his cake design and everything is already planned, so he knows Louis has no more reason to talk to him... which means the end of his and Louis's relationship. As short as it was, Harry loved every minute of it. Louis makes him happy, he's such a cheerful and lovely person. Gemma is really lucky to have him as a friend.

The sad reality hits him one more time, and once again, Gemma’s friend act as if Harry was invisible. Of course, Zayn needs him but he doesn’t want him as a friend… Louis neither. Let's face it: Harry is a weird kind of guy, and he's younger than them, it isn't easy to be cool. He doesn't fit with the cool guys.

Yet sometimes, and just sometimes, Gemma actually makes some school work and looks right as his brother: a mess of nerves, tiredness and lack of sleep.

Those glorious days are days of joy for Harry, the ones he enjoys the most. Sometimes like that day, when Harry finds her on the kitchen with Zayn and that boy called Liam, who plays on the football team with Louis, the three working on an assay, drinking loads and loads of caffeine.

“Hello, Harry,” Gemma says when Harry walks into the kitchen.

“Hi,” he replies going towards the fridge. He picks some cereal to eat, makes him a cup of tea and walks to the living room.

“Hazza, wait,” her sister calls him. “Louis is sleeping on the couch, try to be quiet.”

“Oh— ok.”

In a normal situation, Harry would have ran upstairs away from Louis and the world. Now that they have talked on school (well, if “hi, Harry!” counts as talking, but it’s an advance) it’s not forbidden to stay into the living room just to stare at Louis while he sleeps. Ok, yes, maybe it sounds creepy but if Louis doesn't find out... well, he's not hurting anyone, isn't he?

Harry acts like he’s looking for something and walks into the living room. It’s all quiet and dark there, Louis lying on the couch; his head tilted to one side and his mouth slightly open. He’s insanely handsome.

The young boy leaves the cereal and his cuppa on the table and walks slowly until he’s in front of the couch. There’s a little bit of space for him to sit, and before he can think about it, he’s settling on the couch right next to Louis, already making up a stupid excuse on his mind like "wanting to watch telly for a while" if Louis wakes up in the worst case.

Louis’s body has some kind of warmth that wraps Harry completely, and makes him want more and more of him. Louis snuggles closer to Harry's body while he sleeps; the younger boy has to hold his breath in order to stay calm.

“Harry?” Louis whispers with a sleepy voice. Harry jumps when he talks because he didn’t think Louis was actually awake. He mutters a weak 'sorry' and attempts to stand up, but Louis grabs his hands, eyes still closed, and adds, “Stay."

"But I woke you up."

"Shut up, Haz," Louis says playfully. "If you don't want to be with me being awake— Well, pretend that I'm asleep and cuddle with me."

Harry won’t and doesn’t want to refuse. Of course he won’t, sleeping by Louis’s side is the most crazy dream he has and he never thought it could actually happen in real life. So he just gets closer to him, and Louis quickly finds his place beside Harry’s body, nuzzling his face against Harry’s chest.

“I like this,” he mutters quietly.

“Lou,” Harry whispers, all his dreams and hopes coming out of his mouth in a loud sigh, while he wraps Louis with his arms, finding its perfect place on Louis's waist, kissing his head.

“Hey,” Louis mumbles, “you smell like chocolate.”

Harry smiles and squeezes the boy on his arms. Louis says nothing for a while; Harry just holds him tight while he draws forms with the tip of his finger on Louis’s back. Something particularly odd happens between them… they aren’t supposed to be so comfortable on each other’s arms, much more considering that they have barely talked before. But it feels right, it feels like the right thing to do. They're meant to cuddle, Harry's body was meant to wrap Louis's.

The older boy raises his hand up and slides his finger by Harry’s jaw; finally opening his eyes and staring at the boy’s face. Harry smiles at him and, just as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do, Louis presses an innocent kiss to Harry's lips.

Harry’s heart drops on his chest and his mind turns blank. He doesn’t move back or break the kiss; he really needs some minutes to fall into the realization and understand that Louis is kissing him (kissing him!). Louis opens slightly his mouth to make their lips fit together and Harry tilts his head a bit to one side, finding a better angle to taste as much as he can of Louis.

It all happens slowly and quickly at the same time, tenderly and passionately, quietly and nosily. It’s all new and perfect; it’s all part of them.

When Louis breaks the kiss, something on his expression has changed, and Harry sees the fond written all over his face like he never saw on Louis before.

“You taste like the sea,” Harry whispers with a quiet voice. “Does it make any sense?”

“No,” Louis shakes his head, “nothing you say makes sense. That’s why I like you.”

 

 

 **♡** _**Step 5: Make it hot! Time for the owen! Be careful with the temperature or you could burn it all!** _ **** **♡**

 

 

“So that’s the cake?” Zayn asks, staring at the three-layer pink cake which stands in front of him.

“Yes,” Harry nods, while he carefully puts the last sugar flower on the cake.

“It’s honestly amazing, mate. Are you going to take it to the place where— wherever the competition takes place?”

Gemma, who’s sitting with Louis on the kitchen island, eating some of the M&M that Harry didn’t use for the cake, nods with the head.

“Yup,” she explains, “the judges are going to check it out in the bakery and then it’s all yours.”

“What if you win?” Louis asks curiously.

“He’s going to win. This is the most original cake some can made,” Gemma says without even doubting it for a second.

“Recipe,” Harry corrects her, raising eyebrows. “It needed to be an original recipe.” He isn’t sure if his cake is considered an ‘original recipe’, but he doesn’t really care about it, because thanks of that cake he got the chance to talk to Louis.

“Oh, great,” Zayn nods without really caring about the baker stuff, but too amazed with the cake. “I really have to pay you, Harry.”

“No, no,” Harry refuses, turning to him. “It’s fine, Zayn. It was useful for both of us so you don’t have to pay me.”

Zayn nods and smiles at him, genuinely smiling at him; and Harry thinks that, in moments like those, Zayn looks like a cool guy. Meanwhile, Louis stands up beside him and the cake seems the less interesting thing in the world for him, as his eyes are locked on Harry.

“Man, you’re great on this,” Zayn mutters.

Gemma stands up too and approaches to his brother; she hugs him tenderly and pinches his cheeks.

“My little weird and skillful brother,” she jokes, proudly. Harry offers her a shy smile, happy that everybody seems to be enjoying something he made.

After talking about some baker stuff, Zayn and Gemma walk away, ready to have a PlayStation day.

“Louis!” Gemma yells from the living room.

“Coming,” Louis shouts back but he doesn’t attempt to move.

Harry stares at his cake, trying to ignore the feeling of Louis’s eyes on him. He bites his lower lip nervously and suddenly he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He doesn’t what to say. He doesn’t…

After the kiss they shared together cuddling on the couch, they didn’t talk to each other. Harry just spent his hours praying for Louis to talk to him, but it never happened… so he isn’t really sure about what he’s supposed to do now.

“You’re really great,” Louis says, getting closer to him. “This,” he points at the sugar flowers, “can I eat them? I mean, are they plastic?”

Harry giggles when Louis makes the question because it’s honestly a really silly one. Louis seems to enjoy when Harry giggles, because his fond expression is incredibly obvious.

“They’re made of sugar, Lou,” Harry explains.

Louis hugs Harry from behind and rests his chin on Harry’s shoulder. Harry gets frozen with he feels Louis’s touch, the memories of the boy on his arm, his bodies filling on each other, their lips joining softly assaulting his mind. Suddenly his need of Louis rises up to scarily high levels.

“It doesn’t look tasty.”

“It’s actually pretty yummy,” Harry stutters.

“Oh, I want to eat one, then,” Louis teases and sets Harry free, approaching to the cake. When Louis’s arms leave his waist, Harry feels like some part of him is missing. “Can I eat one? The littlest one.”

“No” Harry says clearly, and Louis does a puppy face. Why a puppy face? Harry gulps, trying to keep his self-control; wondering how a boy can look so damn cute doing a puppy face.

“I want to eat it!”

“I want the cake to be complete, Lou.”

“I just want a flower.”

“I want them all on the cake.”

“I want to kiss you.”

Louis’s words hit Harry like a stick. The world stops without any warning and Harry’s heart skips a beat. His eyes drop from Louis’s eye to his rosy lips and… of course he wants to kiss him too.

They remain extremely quiet, both wrapped with the tenderness of their heart eyes. Then, Louis hugs Harry and pulls him impossible close to him, which makes Harry feel a shiver running down his spine. Then, his lips press against Harry’s cheeks; the younger boy closes his eyes at the touch.

“You— you already kissed me once,” Harry mumbles, flustered.

“I know.”

“Can— Can I kiss you this time?” Harry pleads, feeling the urge to kiss Louis burning his veins.

“You don’t have to ask for a kiss, Haz” Louis whispers. Then he reaches a hand to Harry’s face, cupping his cheek. Harry tilts his head to one side, trying to feel Louis’s touch the most as he can, closing his eyes and losing himself on the warmth of Louis.

Louis stands in his tip toes, approaching his face to Harry’s. He stands a few millimeters apart from Harry, breathing into him, resting his forehead against his. They get intoxicate in the same love poison, and then Louis is pressing his lips against Harry’s, softly kissing the edge of his mouth.

Harry stands immobile for a while, eyes closed, feeling Louis’s lips against his. The older boy grabs him by the neck, opening his mouth while he kisses him and Harry quickly does the same, feeling Louis sliding his tongue inside his mouth. The taste of Louis is like sugar, like candy, like everything Harry likes. No, it’s much more than that.

Louis pushes his body harder against Harry’s; the younger boy holds him tighter, not wanting to let him go. Never. They don’t break the kiss even for a minute, melting into it, they step back and…

It sounds right as a piece of cake dropping onto the floor.

Harry opens his eyes and holds his breath. No. Not the cake. _No, no, it can’t be possible._

“Shit,” Louis mutters.

In their need to feel each other’s bodies, they leant on the edge of the kitchen table, the cake suffering the consequences.

“No, shit, Louis, no,” Harry panics and his pulse starts shaking. Louis quickly grabs him by the wrists and kisses his hands.

“Sh, Haz, calm down,” he whispers with a lovely voice. “Don’t worry, babe. Shh.”

Don’t worry? You can’t _‘don’t worry’_ if you just have ruined the cake which was supposed to be his competition piece and a gift for the popular kid’s girlfriend.

“Louis! Louis, the cake!”

“Hum.”

Shit. Gemma. Harry closes his eyes, he doesn’t have the guts to face his sister.

“Harry, is that Penny’s cake on the floor?”

“Maybe,” Louis answers for Harry, “and it’s Perrie.”

 

 

 **♡** _**Step 6: it's baked! If you had problems with the temperature and burned some parts of it, don't worry: it can be fixed once it's cold** _ **♡**

 

 

“Niall, you don’t understand,” Harry says the following day at school while they’re on the lunch break, sitting in the buffet. “It’s the end of my social life and the end of my career as a baker.”

“Your nonexistent social life and your nonexistent career as a baker,” Niall corrects him, playing with his fork.

“Shut up, Niall,” Harry shushes him, dreadfully. He’s honesty horrified about the idea of Zayn hating on him. Actually, the idea of Zayn hating him scares him more than the end of his baker career, and it doesn’t have anything to do with his chances to talk to Louis, _of course._

No, Harry isn’t worry about not talking to Louis anymore.  _Of course not._

“Calm down, Harry, nothing happened,” Niall growls, raising eyebrows. 

“Yes, it happened,” Harry corrects him. “Before the cake, Zayn talked to me.”

“If talking to you means saying “hi”,” Niall mumbles, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t care,” Harry cuts him, irritated. “What I care is that Zayn now hates me and Louis won’t talk to me anymore.”

“Oh, so that’s the reason!” Niall exclaims, smirking mischievously. “Not Zayn, not even the competition. It’s all about Louis Tomlinson.”

Harry is about to deny Niall’s statement, but he stops before saying a word. Harry is honestly heart-broken, and really, it’s not about the competition or his social life, it’s about the lovely Louis who kissed him but… _it was only just a dream._

“At least you kissed him.”

“Niall, I don’t want to simply kiss him,” Harry whispers miserably, trying to make his friend understand what Louis means to him. “I want to hug him, to laugh and cry with him, to sleep at his side— I want Louis to be part of my life.”

“Oh God,” Niall mutters, and puts the face someone does when eats something sour and stale. “I know why you want to be a baker: you’re sickening sweet.”

Harry’s eye quickly looks for Louis, ignoring Niall's mocks. He is sitting on his usual table but he isn’t laughing; he’s writing something in his notebook, too focused on it to notice that he’s missing something funny. He’s wearing his fringe (oh, Harry’s weakness) and his glasses (ok, no, maybe his glasses are Harry’s weakness), and Spiderman hoodie. And tight jeans (fine, Louis’s ass is Harry’s weakness) and his Vans and… Louis himself is Harry’s weakness.

It hurts like a thorn dunk in the middle of his heart, as shitty as it sounds. Louis has a life out there while Harry has nothing but the moments he shared with him.

Zayn calls him, patting his back, and Louis raises his head. Zayn tells him something and Louis starts laughing, and even when Harry is far from him he can swear he listens to an angel laughing. And then maybe Harry’s intense staring calls Louis’s attention, because Louis turns to him.

The older boy doesn’t smile at him when they eyes meet. They only stare at each other, and Harry wishes so hard to be able to talk to him by the eyes. It’s just a few seconds, and then Louis is back to the conversation and Harry disappears from his world.

 

 

 **♡** _**Step 7: throw away all the burned parts. You have to do it slowly and patiently. Remember: good things take time!** _ **♡**

 

 

Maybe Niall couldn’t see the change in Harry’s life, but he could see it. After the cake disaster, not only he is kicked out of the competition: also, everything goes back to normal and Harry is again the weird little Gemma’s brother who’s too enamored of Louis Tomlinson.

There is only one thing Harry notices that has changed, and it’s the way Louis looks at him: before the whole cake thing, when Louis’s eyes meet Harry he smiled at him. Now, he tries his best to avoid Harry.

It makes Harry feel miserable. He knows he was just an item in the endless list of “Louis Tomlinson’s conquers” and it breaks his heart. The brief moment that lasted his bubble love with Louis, he found out how beautiful life could be and how bright a day could shine, and he knew it was everything thanks to Louis, because Louis is just that beautiful and perfect human being.

Louis lights up his world, but now he has nothing: not a cake, not a Louis… but he still has a recipe, actually. A very and original recipe. He wasn’t going to win the competition with that recipe, of course, but it is one of the best recipes Harry has ever created.

And Louis must know it.

 

 

 **♡** _**Step 8: there you have, a perfect Louis Tomlinson all for your own. You can cover it with a layer of love, sprinkle it with kisses and decorate it with sugary words** _ **** **♡**

 

 

“Why is Louis Tomlinson standing at my door _again_? Twice in a month!”

“What? Again?”

“Ni, this is insane. I’m going crazy!” Harry whispers on the phone. His hands are shaking while he holds the phone, and his faltering breathing seems impossible to be quieter.

“Sh, calm down. Count to ten. Now open the door.”

“What?! Niall!”

“Harry you need to know what Louis has to say.”

“Niall, Louis is—”

“Don’t start with that shit about cool guys,” Niall growls angry, “don’t you watch shitty comedy movies? The cool guy always gets the weird girl.”

“I’m not a girl,” Harry points out.

“Shut up, you like flowers and you like baking so you’re a girl.”

“Mean.”

“I’m going to hang up and I expect you to open the door. Bye, loser.”

“Niall Horan!” Harry yells but the line goes dead.

“Harry? Harry, are you with someone?” Louis asks gently, of course he has heard Harry’s yells.

“Hum— no,” he says “I’m coming.”

He purses his mouth, almost turning them white for the lack of blood, and counts mentally to ten, breathing deep at every number. Then he opens the door and Louis welcomes him with a shy smile. Harry acts like his heart doesn’t start rising when he sees him and says: “Gemma’s not here”

“I know, Anne told me,” he nods. He stands by the door frame, staring at his Vans. Harry is determined to stay silence and Louis seems to notice it, so he adds, “Don’t be fool, Harry, you know I’m here for you.”

Harry’s face goes red (again. Is it never going to stop?) and he nods because, honestly, he knows Louis is there for him. He’s a mess, wearing an old hoddie, his boxers and nothing but the smell of the cookies he has been eating, but Louis doesn’t seem to mind.

“Harry, I’m here to say that I’m sorry about your competition,” he explains, genuinely concerned. “I know that baking is important for you and I ruined it all.”

Harry speaks no words. Silence takes place on them and it last a long, deadly minutes.

“You didn’t ruin anything. It was both of us,” Harry points out.

“But now you— you’re out of the competition and—”

“Louis, its fine,” the curly haired boy cuts him. The way he says Louis's name tastes bitter on him; yet he's ok with it because he wants the older boy to feel half of the sadness he feels inside, at least. "It wasn’t a big deal. Plus, the cake wasn’t really that original.”

Louis makes a half smile, but he still looks upset. Harry steps forwards, getting closer to Louis.

"Ok," Louis nods. They don’t seem to have anything else to add and Harry is ready to say goodbye, but Louis puts his hand inside his pocket and then takes out a letter... No, no a letter: Harry's recipe. “And this? This is original enough?" he asks, raising his eyebrow.

Harry has his mouth dry and finds no word to explain it to Louis, which is stupid, considering he left the recipe in Louis’s locker on purpose. Also, he pries that Louis doesn’t get any closer because he must contain his need of him. Louis won't control his life. _No._

Ok, maybe yes, he'll do.

“Harry," he says and tries to reach for his hand, but Harry steps back. “Harry, please."

“Louis, are you ashamed of me?" Harry asks and he sounds hurt. "Are you ashamed to admit that we kissed? We can act normally, as if never happened. But I thought that maybe—"

"Harry."

"—Maybe you enjoyed the kiss. I did," Harry keeps talking, his eyes growing wet. "I know I'm weird and my kisses are probably shit but Louis— Lou, I like you a lot, a lot really."

“Harry, stop!" Louis shouts, grabbing Harry's hand. "Stop! No one can be ashamed of you, because you're honestly wonderful," Louis says and Harry holds his hand as if he was holding his life. “Harry I dreamed about you every damn night! I thought that you hated me because you lost the chance to win the competition because of me and,” he gets silence and his blue eyes stare at Harry, "when I found this note— Well, I want to be with you, Harry.”

"You—?"

"I truly, honestly want to with you, Haz."

Harry wants to be with Louis too. But that’s pretty obvious, really.

“It's not a note,” Harry speaks softly and shyly, “it's a recipe."

Louis nods with the head.

"Is the recipe to bake the perfect Louis Tomlinson. I wrote it myself," Harry explains, squeezing Louis’s hand.

“I read it,” Louis nods, finally smiling. Harry doesn’t look a bit ashamed or regretted. Giving that recipe to Louis was the only thing he knew it was right. The only thing he did because he _felt like doing it_. "With that recipe you would have lost the competition, sunshine."

"I doubt it. Louis Tomlinson is actually really tasty."

"Yes? Have you ever tasted him?" Harry's cheeks turns red while he nods, biting his lower lip. "God, Haz, come here," he sighs and they run to each other’s arm, joining their lips in a passionate kiss.

It all fits perfectly, Harry is sure now that Louis and he were born to be together, sharing kisses and hugs and words and compliments and life itself. They walk towards the bed and collapse on them, Louis on top of Harry. They try to take off each other’s shoes and laugh when they didn’t make it, giggling like a genuinely pair of idiots in love.

“You’re so pretty,” Louis mutters, putting a soft kiss on Harry’s shoulder, “so damn pretty. I’m sorry about the cake.”

“Lou, stop with it,” Harry stops him and raises his head to Louis’s ear. “Now let me tell you about my recipe.”

“I’m listening,” Louis whispers, gripping Harry’s hoddie tighter.

“First of all,” Harry starts, kissing the tip of Louis’s nose “you should make the perfect paste with lot of softness, a bit of mischief, a sprinkle of perfection and lots of prettiness” he explains, following the lines of Louis’s chest tattoo with the tip of his finger. He raises his head to kiss him on the lips, after what Harry adds, “you have it all, so you are my paste.”

“Harry—” Harry rests a finger against Louis’s lips, asking him to remain in silence.

“Louuuuu, let me continue!” he asks. “Then, you mix it all, slowly and tenderly,” Harry continues with his explanation. Louis laughs at it, Harry is smiling like an idiot but, for once he doesn’t care about it. He feels like smiling, he feels happy. “Come here, you moron,” he invites, opening his arms, and Louis curls up against his body.

“God, Harry,” he sighs happily. “You’re such a baker nerd.”

Harry giggles and nods proudly, pressing a soft kiss to Louis’s cheek.

“Third: let the mix rest,” Harry whispers, playing with the button of Louis’s shirt. “Cuddle me, Lou.”

Louis quickly wraps him with his arms and pulls him into a warm hug, entangling their legs and sharing their bodies’s warmth.

“What’s next on the recipe, Hazza?” Louis wonders, actually interested on it.

“Hum—” he mutters and pokes his head up, pecking Louis on the lips. “Sprinkle it with some kisses to make it sweeter.”

“Oh, I like that step. Can I try?” Louis jokes and when Harry nods, he cups his face with his hands and brushes their lips slowly, kissing him cutely again and again. They share silent and soft kisses for a while; Louis's blue eyes stare at Harry, who looks at Louis as a puppy looks his owner.

“Next step,” Harry says and his voice sounds teasing, “make it hot.”

“This is getting better and better,” Louis mutters. He gets closer to Harry and instead of joining their lips; he licks Harry’s lower lip, nibbling it teasingly. “You have different voices, you know?” Louis says. “When you’re ashamed, when you’re happy, when you’re—” He gets closer to Harry’s ear and bites his earlobe before whispering, “when you’re needy.”

Harry has never been in that situation before, he has never shared any intimate moment with a guy because he was too busy loving Louis in silence. Now, yes, he’s needy and half hard and his voice changed and he wants so desperately to feel Louis, to touch him.

Harry grabs Louis by the neck and this time he doesn’t want to kiss him softly, he joins their lips in a rough kiss, tongues quickly finding their way on each other’s mouths. Louis reacts perfectly at every single one of Harry’s touches, as if they were made to be with each other.

The younger boy doesn’t even hesitate when Louis takes off his hoodie; then Harry undresses Louis slowly and caring, kissing his skin and his tattoos, praying to God and every single angel for that moment to be eternal.

“Harry Styles,” Louis moans. “You, Harry Styles.”

Harry chuckles against Louis’s mouth, biting the tip of his tongue, and Louis makes an annoying noise before lying down on the bed, letting Harry be on top. He moves Harry’s hair away from his face and slides his finger by Harry’s plump lips; which the younger boy can’t deny, and takes one finger inside his mouth, licking it.

“Tease me whenever you want, babe,” Louis whimpers sarcastically, his eyes so wide and lustful, and rises up his head to kiss Harry. The kiss is needy; Louis starts kissing Harry’s jaw, going down his neck. It makes Harry’s mind blow on delight, and he titles his head back, a noisy moan escaping from his mouth.

“God, make it again,” Louis whispers and he sounds so needy, sucking Harry’s neck, trying to get that moan again. “Harry— that moan.”

Harry opens his mouth and sighs loudly while Louis sucks hard his neck, letting marks which are going to be pretty visible in the morning. The younger boy’s hands grip Louis’s by his hips, grinding their hips.

Louis moans at it, Harry suddenly forgets about the world, desperately needing to touch Louis.

“Touch me,” Louis pleads, putting open mouth kisses on his bare chest. “Please, touch me, Harry.”

Harry quickly fights with the jean zipper, trying to take it off. Minutes later they’re both on their boxers, and Harry realizes that he’s in bed with Louis Tomlinson, on top of him, almost naked, being a complete mess.

It’s happening.

Harry’s hand runs down Louis’s chest to his lower belly. Louis closes his eyes and moans quietly, his pretty puffy lips looking obscenely red. The younger boy plays with the elastic of the boxer andthen slides his hand underneath it. When he wraps Louis’s throbbing cock with his hand, the boy moans loudly, arching his back.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” he begs, making Harry hard.

“The recipe said: slowly,” Harry repeats, kissing Louis on the cheeks, “and tenderly.”

Harry works up and down on Louis’s, making him moan every time his thumb brushes the head of his cock. The older boy shoves his hips up, trying to fuck Harry’s hand, who rubs faster and faster until Louis’s dick is leaking pre cum and the boy can’t stop moaning.

“Louuuuuu, mom is down stairs.”

Louis doesn’t hear him; his mind is completely blank on the need to come. Harry’s mouth kisses all along Louis’s jaw line and when he sucks a bruise on his neck, he presses the head of his dick with his thumb and Louis comes all on him.

Louis cries loudly, collapsing on bed without forces, exhausted and coming back from a high orgasm. He’s sweaty and messy, and glances at Harry’s harden before saying: “It counts if I want to touch the cooker?”

Harry blushes form face to feet, he never had anyone but himself touching him. The only thought of Louis’s pretty lips around his cocks makes him go harder, and his blood burning inside his veins, _wanting, needing, and feeling_ Louis.

"If you don't want to," Harry whimpers, and he gets surprised about his own voice: it sounded awfully husky and needy. Louis smirks at him.

"Well, then," Louis teases and puts a kiss on Harry's lower belly, the younger boy moaning loudly, needing to have Louis's pretty mouth around his cock, but the boy doesn't move a bit.

"Louu," Harry gasps, reaching a hand to grip Louis by the hair.

"I really want to suck you off," Louis says with a rough voice. "Would you like me to do it?"

"Please, please, please," Harry begs, feeling his cock so hard that it hurts.

Louis quickly wraps his lips around Harry's dick and starts sucking him off, and the most pleasant and intense feeling controls every inch of Harry's body, pins and needles running down his lower belly.

He comes inside Louis's mouth and he swallows without even attempting to move, taking everything of Harry in his mouth. The younger boy cries Louis's name when he comes and sees nothing but _Louis_.

Louis wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and slides by the bed until he's pressed against Harry. “God, Harry,” he sighs, breathing deep. “Whatever recipe you are telling me, it’s the fucking best.”

Harry smiles at him and nuzzles his head where Louis’s heart is placed on his chest.

“That’s because you were my inspiration” he confesses, and Louis fingers skim his arm until he intertwines their hands together. “But now comes the best part: garnish it with kindness and love words.”

“Love words,” Louis repeats, staring at the ceiling while he idly draws circles on Harry’s skin. “Maybe something like—” He moves his head a bit to face Harry, who’s looking at him with adoration on his eyes. “I have the biggest crush on you.”

“Mmm, like it. But I can make it better: I liked you since you met Gemma.”

Louis singers and squeezes Harry’s body.

“I wanted to see you naked just for me.”

“Louiiiiiis!” Harry exclaims, a bit embarrassed, burying his face on Louis’s chest to hide his red face.

“But I also wanted you to kiss you. All the time.”

“I got mad when we destroyed the cake because I thought it was my only chance of talking to you,” Harry confesses, face still pressed against Louis’s skin.

“I said Gemma’s idea was the best not because I cared about Zayn, just because I wanted to talk to you.”

“You’re pretty,” Harry mutters, finally raising his head in order to look into Louis’s eyes.

“No, you’re pretty,” Louis contradicts him, stealing a quick kiss from his lips.

Harry opens his mouth to say something, but instead of saying whatever he thought before, he says, “I love you.”

He has told it.

Maybe it’s too quickly, unexpected and reckless, but it came right from Harry’s heart. He honestly loves Louis, he loves him with that pure, sweet and unconditional love you only got to feel once, and he thinks he’ll never stop feeling for Louis.

It’s honest and Louis’s face lights up when he says it, and it’s a relief for Harry because he was scared that it might scare Louis and make him run away… forever.

“Harry— this recipe of yours,” he whispers, caressing Harry’s hair, “this recipe of yours is getting really sweet.” Then he puts a finger beneath Harry’s chin and raises his face, leaning to kiss him. “I love you too, sunshine.”

They seal their love with a kiss. Not a passionate, tongue-to-tongue kiss, just a tender peck of lips. And that’s what Harry needs to know that Louis belongs to him, _finally_ , and that he belongs to Louis, body and soul.

“That’s how my recipe ends,” Harry says. “There you have it: a perfect baked Louis Tomlinson. It’s absolutely tasty and you can share it— but not in this case. You’ll be all mine.”

“You can get tummy ache.”

“Never,” Harry denies, shaking his head. “Because you got the kind of sweetness I never got sick of.”

“Perfect,” Louis whispers, kissing him back, “because I’m not planning on leaving you anytime soon— or never.”

“Humm.”

“So, Harry Styles. Now that you baked your own Louis Tomlinson, is time to take it: it’s all yours.”

“Only mine?”

“Only yours.”

“Like— boyfriends?” Harry risks asking. Louis winks at him and nuzzles the tip of their noses in a sweet Eskimo kiss.

“Like boyfriends— if you would like to be my boyfriend, of course. Would you?”

Harry can’t believe the words he’s hearing. He can’t believe that Louis Tomlinson is asking him to be his boyfriend. But he is asking and it feels better than anything. It's all Harry wanted... and it all started by a cake.

Harry loves that cake, really.

(But he loves Louis the most. And of course his answer is yes)

 

_-Original recipe by Harry Styles._

 

 


End file.
